


Riding It Out

by ShebasDawn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebasDawn/pseuds/ShebasDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was a dark and stormy night..." ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding It Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suilven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/gifts).



The wind had been picking up all evening, accompanied by heat lightning flashing across the sky at regular intervals, illuminating brooding clouds. But even over the rustling of branches swaying in the wind, Alistair could hear something crashing through the forest, heading towards his makeshift camp. Although he didn't sense darkspawn, he picked up the sword he'd been sharpening and stood, straining to see. But the gloom outside the circle of light cast by his campfire was impenetrable. There were sharp 'snaps' and 'cracks' that sounded like an animal stomping through bone-dry underbrush, along with a 'swish whack' sound he couldn't immediately place.

As it came closer, he tightened his grip on the pommel of his weapon and raised it in front of him in a defensive posture. He was just considering whether he had time to reach for his shield when he caught a glimpse of a sword being swung back and forth like a machete, firelight reflecting against the glittering blade. The woman wielding it stumbled into his little camp, cursing loudly.

She looked around, out of breath, then sheathed her sword and eyed Alistair. "Thank the Maker! I thought I'd be out there forever!"

"I'm sorry? Out where?" Alistair blurted out.

The woman gestured behind her. "Out there, in the wilderness. I've been lost for hours!"

Alistair leaned to one side and craned his neck, as if trying to see what she'd been gesturing at. After a few moments, he straightened, a puzzled look on his face. "Er, the forest, you mean?"

She snorted, and started pulling out the vines caught in the joints of her armour with an air of insulted house cat about her. "Forest?! More like a jungle!"

The Grey Warden slowly slid his sword back into its scabbard, biting the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. "I see." As the woman brushed a few stray leaves out of her short, dark hair, he had time to take a closer look at her armour, and noticed the eye surrounded by radiating rays of light emblazoned across her chest - so she was a Seeker. What in the world was a Seeker doing in the middle of Ferelden?

Remembering his manners, he stepped forward with his hand out. "I'm Alistair, by the way."

"Cassandra Pentaghast," she replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. The woman had a faint accent, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Where were you headed?"

"I was coming from Dragon's Peak, on the way to South Reach. But my horse spooked at something; I was thrown off, and the beast deserted me."

At the mention of 'dragon', he made the connection; she was a Pentaghast - the family of renowned dragon hunters from Nevarra. So that was the source of the accent. "Well, if you're looking for dragons, you're a couple of years too late - the last one in Ferelden was slain at the end of the Blight." He grinned, but judging by the exasperated look in Cassandra's eyes, she wasn't amused by his little joke.

"I'm afraid you've drifted too far south," Alistair continued more soberly. "We're in the northwestern part of the Brecilian Forest."

Cassandra's face fell. "Oh." She looked about uncertainly.

"Are you hungry? There's still a bit of rabbit stew left..."

"Starved - the horse took all my provisions with him."

Alistair gestured for her to sit, and ladled some of the stew into a bowl. He added a bit of bread before handing it to her, then sat down beside her. "I've been told I'm not much of a cook, but it's warm, at least."

Cassandra dug in eagerly. "I'm sure it's fine." But the look that crossed her face once the spoon was in her mouth told him otherwise.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't be offended if you only eat the bread."

"It's good," she said with a forced smile. Alistair wasn't fooled a bit - he'd seen that look on his companions' faces plenty of times - but he was grateful that she'd tried.

"So, what's a Seeker doing out here?"

"I'm searching for the Hero."

"Of Ferelden?" he asked, before his brain caught up to his mouth.

She gave him another exasperated look, but it was an expression Alistair was used to seeing on the faces of women, so it didn't concern him overly much.

"Yes, _Ferelden_."

"I don't think you'll find her - I heard she left for Antiva some time ago, following one of our companions."

She made a disappointed noise. Wanting to cheer her up, he offered, "But you're welcome to share my tent." Cassandra's eyes narrowed, and he held up his hands. "Strictly platonic, of course - it's the only one I have. And you won't be able to travel further tonight."

Somewhat mollified, she nodded. "Of course. That's very kind of you."

"Once it's light, I can set you on the road again. It's a small one - just a shortcut between here and South Reach, really - but you should have no trouble following it in the daylight."

Cassandra shook her head. "There's no reason to go now - if the Hero has disappeared, it's even more vital that I find the Champion."

Alistair, really, _really_ wanted to ask, 'Of Kirkwall?', if only to make her laugh, but she looked so discouraged, he held his tongue. Besides, she might not realize he was only joking.

oOo

Even though the wind had picked up even more while they were talking, the deluge as the sky opened up took them both by surprise. They were soaked before they made it to the shelter of Alistair's tent.

Both of them had to bend over a bit, as the tent was too small to stand up fully. Alistair shoved his pack into a corner. "Sorry it's so cramped in here - I'm not used to having company." His cheeks heated up as he realized how that might have sounded. "Not that I don't have _company,_ of course - just not _here_." The words rushed out of his mouth before he'd fully thought it through - a common occurrence with him - and he decided to shut up before he made it any worse.

"I see." Her tone was amused, and Alistair was briefly glad it was too dark to see the expression on her face. Unfortunately, they _did_ need some light - the campfire had already been extinguished by the heavy downpour.

"Hold on." He dug through his pack by feel, pulled out a small lantern, and lit it. "There, that's better."

Alistair looked over to see her stooped over awkwardly. "Here, let me help you out of your armour." Cassandra gave him a suspicious look, and he hastened to add, "I know how hard it is getting out of heavy plate mail in a tent, is all - I wear it too."

The air inside the enclosed space was warm and humid by the time they were done struggling with her armour, and Alistair was glad he'd taken his off when he'd set up camp that afternoon. They sat down side by side, and he grabbed two towels from his pack, handing one to Cassandra. They dried off as best they could silently, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Suddenly realizing the intimacy of their situation, Alistair cleared his throat nervously, setting his towel aside. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please," Cassandra replied, almost before the words were out of his mouth, and her tone was so relieved, Alistair wondered if she was nervous too.

"I usually stick to ale, but that's a bit awkward to carry around in a backpack," he explained, as he pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and opened it. "Er, I'm afraid I don't have any glasses."

Cassandra snorted. "I think I can manage." She grabbed the bottle and took a swig, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve. He must have looked startled, because she replied, "What? I'm a _soldier_ , after all, not some dainty princess."

Alistair grinned as she handed the bottle to him. "I can't imagine you as a princess." As she cocked an eyebrow he hastily added, "Not that you're not pretty and all." Face on fire, he tilted the bottle back and took a large swallow - too large, he realized too late, as a coughing fit took him.

She pounded on his back, laughing.

Embarrassing as the situation was, Alistair was also relieved - at least she didn't seem offended. When he'd got his coughing under control, he affected a wounded expression. "I'm glad you found my near-death experience entertaining."

Cassandra just shook her head in amusement and took the bottle from him.

 _I miss this_. The thought took Alistair by surprise, but he quickly realized the truth of it - he missed having companionship. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone to talk to. Well, except for the darkspawn. And they were lousy conversationalists.

"You know, I could accompany you," he offered casually. "I was just looking for isolated bands of darkspawn in the area - I can do that heading to Denerim as easily as anywhere else."

Cassandra looked at him, and there was a quality to her gaze Alistair couldn't quite articulate, like a word on the tip of his tongue. "I suppose if we're going in the same direction, it would make sense to travel together," Cassandra replied lightly.

It was a response that could have been taken as simply pragmatic, but Alistair thought he could sense something more - or maybe he was just fooling himself. Either way, he was still pleased by her reply.

Thunder boomed, and they both jumped a little, then pretended they hadn't. The sound reverberated across the sky like a bowling ball rolling down a lane, and lightning flashed before the thunder had completely died off. "That sounded close," Cassandra said, peering through the slightly open tent flap.

Her voice sounded hesitant, an unasked question. "Don't worry, we're perfectly safe here," Alistair reassured her, fighting the instinct to put an arm around her. Instead, he gave her a friendly nudge with his shoulder, drawing her gaze back to him.

"Tsk. Of course we are." The Seeker's back straightened, and she took another drink from the bottle, as if to underscore her lack of concern.

Alistair wasn't fooled, though. "Hey, have you ever heard the one about the duck that walked into a bar?" As Cassandra shook her head, he launched into the story.

"A duck walks into a bar and asks, 'Got any grapes?' The bartender, confused, tells the duck no. The duck thanks him and leaves.

"The next day, the duck returns and asks, 'Got any grapes?' Again, the bartender tells him, 'No, the bar does not serve grapes, has never served grapes and, furthermore, never _will_ serve grapes.' The duck thanks him and leaves.

"The next day, the duck returns, but before he can say anything, the bartender yells, 'Listen, duck! This is a bar! We do not serve grapes! If you ask for grapes again, I will nail your stupid duck beak to the bar!'

"The duck is silent for a moment, then asks, 'Got any nails?' Confused, the bartender says no. 'Good!' says the duck. 'Got any grapes?'"

Alistair gave a satisfied grin at Cassandra's peals of laughter, and took the bottle from her. "Your turn."

oOo

By the time the storm had finally moved off into the distance, both of them were just a smidge past tipsy, and giggling like schoolchildren. It turned out they had much in common, not the least of which was a shared love of puns and silly jokes.

As their latest bout of snickering tapered off, they looked at each other. Previously, that had inevitably been followed by fresh gales of laughter, but this time, they held each other's gaze. That's when Alistair noticed how much quieter it was now.

He reached out and opened the flap slightly, peering out. "It looks like the storm's died down. It's getting late; I suppose we ought to get some-" As he turned his head to face Cassandra, he was startled to find her lips on his. For one crazy moment, Alistair had the urge to apologize. Then he realized how rare accidental kissing was, and relaxed into it, putting his arms around her loosely.

"Sleep," he finished, when their lips parted.

Cassandra's reply was to lean into him, and Alistair allowed himself to be gently pushed onto his back. "Or not." His soft chuckle was cut short by another kiss. Neither of them were drunk, Alistair knew, but they'd had enough alcohol to provide 'plausible deniability' the next morning, should either of them want to blame it on the booze.

 _Well, this trip might turn out to be more interesting than I'd imagined. Maybe I'll take her the long way around._ Whatever business Cassandra had with the Champion, it could probably wait a few more days, Alistair decided.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Riding It Out is a gift for Suilven, the lovely Cheeky Monkey who organizes the CMDA Secret Santa fic exchange every year. Special thanks to Oleander's One for beta reading, and for helping me keep it a surprise. :)


End file.
